


the story of the fates and the blood god

by bupine



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Panic Attacks, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), phil is immortal and thats apparantly canon now so here we are, phil makes promises we all know he wont keep but he Tries, why do the tags have real names. why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bupine/pseuds/bupine
Summary: techno and phil keep secrets. techno finally shares his with someone he trusts.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	the story of the fates and the blood god

**Author's Note:**

> B) enjoy

"Your kids don't like me," Techno says.

The two of them are perched on top of the rickety rooftop of Philza's house, clinging to the loose tiles and clogged gutter that the father should definitely hire someone to fix. The sky above is a deep navy, sprinkled with stars in the forms of glowing constellations and broken by the branches of the trees that surround their village on all sides. With their home being on the edge of the forest, it's a lot darker here, and the lanterns that Phil set up outside clank loudly against their glass cases as the wind roars and sends cold air directly into their eyes. Phil yanks his hat down further over his face. 

Techno, next to him, has gone silent. He's folded into himself, chin shoved against his knees, his face half in shadow by his black cloak that covers half his body. He's in his Piglin hybrid form, as usual, leaving his face longer and fuzzier and nose widened like a snout and tusks curling the corners of his lips upwards. 

Phil cares for this boy deeply. They barely met six months ago and already he can't help but view him as a best friend, as family. They had both been alone when they found each other. They had both stuck by the other's side while they took down nations and crumbled cruel and unfair governments. They had both become legends together. Phil had been the one to help the younger hybrid pick the name "Technoblade" - after a great Piglin warrior who had lived for centuries and died a hundred years ago.

Today, after months of planning and fighting and destroying and bloodshed, the two of them have arrived in the small server where Philza raised his sons, or tried his best to.

"That's not true," he says quietly. His wings twitch on his back as he speaks. They're aching with disuse; Phil flies practically everywhere, but he's been inside all day ever since he arrived and every one of his joints moans in protest. He finds it difficult to stay in one place. Always has. "Tommy can't hate anyone. He's a real softie, underneath the silly persona he puts on."

"But he does as Wilbur does, doesn't he?" Techno asks flatly. He turns to look at Phil as he speaks, and it hurts the older man how dim the kid's dark purple eyes are. How exhausted he looks. "And Wilbur despises me."

Phil hates, hates, _hates_ that he can't deny that.

"He'll… warm up to you," he tries, and he winces at the uncertainty that warbles his voice and makes his words sound more like a question. "Will is just stubborn. And he's… angry. At me. And by the Nether below, he has every right to be." He ducks his head, his breaths making soft clouds as they leave his lips. The cold makes him shiver. He wraps his jacket tighter around him, the friction against the axilleries of his wings causing him to flinch slightly. It takes him a moment to relax into the roof tiles again, his shoulder brushing contentedly against Techno's.

Techno, however, is still tense, and jumps away at the contact. "I don't blame them for hating me," he says hollowly, voice small. He sounds more vulnerable than Phil has ever heard him. "I took you away from them and didn't tell you to return even when I found out you had kids. I was selfish. Wanted to keep you all to myself instead."

"That was _not_ your fault," Phil shouts firmly, lowering his voice when he sees Techno's expression go blank and hard at the suddenness of it. "Sorry. But - Techno, _I_ was the fool. Not you. You're just a kid, you're not - you're not responsible for the choices I make. I was away from Tommy and Wilbur far longer than I should have been, far longer than I've even known you. That's on _me,_ Tech. That's on me."

Techno shudders. "Still," he mumbles, and doesn't continue.

Phil is a father at heart, and Techno is Will's age, barely sixteen, although the two boys couldn't be more different in any other way. Nevertheless, he gently moves one arm around Techno's back and wraps it around his waist, pulling the boy into a one armed hug. Techno lets out a stifled gasp, not looking at the older man, eyes wide as he stares down at the brightly lit village below them. Then he sinks, just slightly, letting himself melt into Phil's touch and finally untensing enough to breathe, slowly, steadily.

"Can I trust you?" Techno says without warning. 

Phil startles, then can't help but laugh. "Fuck, sorry," he says apologetically as Techno's face glows warm and his shoulders rise to his ears. "I'm not laughing at you, just - what do you think we've been _doing_ for the last six months, Tech? We've been trusting each other. You can tell me anything, mate, don't worry."

Techno breathes out. Breathes in. Then does so slightly faster, and slightly faster, and clutches at the white material of his shirt with bloodless hands as his chest shakes with the effort of staying level. Phil turns the younger boy to him, taking both his hands in his own and squeezing them gently, so gently, like he's done with Tommy and Wilbur many times before when they had panic attacks of their own, time and time again. "Count with me," he says softly. "One. Two. Three. Four. Five."

They get up to thirty one before Techno breaks and falls forwards into Phil's arms, shaking like a dead leaf in dry grass, uncharacteristic whimpers choking out of his throat. "Phil," Techno whispers, fingers fluttering against thick grey feathers, running through them for comfort. "I'm sorry, I - I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Phil's heart has shattered a thousand times before and he has learned to harden himself against beings who want to break him. Techno is one of the only expectations to this rule. "Sorry for what?" he whispers against the top of the boy's head, dark hair tickling his face. "You haven't done anything."

"There are _voices,_ Phil," Techno sobs, and Phil's heart plunges through his chest like ice. "There's so many and they all shout at me. They never let up, they never let me go and I just want to not hear them anymore."

Phil closes his eyes. "Is it your Chat?" he says quietly. "That talks to you?"

Techno hums, sniffling against Phil's chest. "And others," he mumbles, shaking his head, violent tremors wracking his body even as he tries to hold still. "I've spoken to Gods, Phil, and they've _infected_ me. They only want one thing. They only want one thing from me."

Phil holds himself together. "Which is?"

A pause. "Blood," Techno breathes. Phil wishes he were more surprised. "They want blood for the Blood God."

Blood for the Blood God. Phil's heard that phrase before. Many times more than he would have liked. 

Subconsciously, he holds Techno closer.

_In the beginning of time, there were three Admins. The very first Admins, who created the very first servers, who carved the very first caves and rose the very first mountains and blew the very first winds and pushed the very first waves and spawned the very first Players. Their names were lost to time, as practically no Player in the universe speaks the original Enderian anymore, so they became known for the colours that they always were depicted as in stories and fairy tale books. Blue, Red and Green._

_These Admins were known as the Trio of Fate. The Judge, the Jury, and the Executioner, they were. Blue was the one who decided the lifelines of every living entity in the universe, who wrote a beginning and an end, no matter how ridiculous or unjust. Red wove stories, wove patterns, wove plans, filled the space in between the first and the last days. And Green was the one who snipped the strings of life, who made sure each being in the universe died when they were supposed to and their souls were collected at the end of the Game. Together, they made life and death fair._

_This continued for millennia. By this point in time, the Trio were not the only Admins, and many other minor Gods had made themselves known in their own unique ways. One of these Gods was the God of War. They were a strategist, cunning and clever and manipulative, and they liked to mess with the Players they chose from their favourite servers and force them to stray from the paths that were chosen for them. They turned people into puppets and made them dance for amusement alone, made them kill just to hear them scream when they realized what they had done. They were out of order, and Players died so quickly. They didn't stand a chance against a God that could break anything they wanted to in minutes._

_So the Trio created a plan, and introduced a new system of life. Each Player was given the ability to respawn. This meant they were able to die and then return not long after, their bodies rebuilding themselves like code wherever they had set their spawn point to be. But there was a catch to this. Each Player had three Canon lives - formed as red hearts on the backs of their necks - that would count down until they reached zero and they wouldn't be able to respawn again. There was no telling which deaths would be Canon until after they happened, which made death all the less of a game yet again. Blue decided when a Canon death would be. Red decided where every meaningless one would take place. And Green made sure they all came to fruition, and that all was balanced and fair. Not only this, but the Admins gave Players everything else they would need to fight back. They gave them obsidian, so that they could venture to the deepest reaches of hell known as the Nether and collect Netherite, which made the most powerful armour and weapons in existence. They gave them Endermen, which dropped Pearls when they died and could take them to the realm of the End where Shulkers and Elytras lay. And they gave them god apples, or "gapples," which made them resistant to fire, made them stronger and gave them the ability to regenerate quicker._

_The War God was displeased with this. They traveled to the home of the Trio and bust down their doors, weapons ready. But the Admins knew they were coming and had prepared. Within minutes, the war God was on the floor with a blade to their neck, and the Trio discussed what their fate would be. In the end, all three of them decided that Green should be the one to kill them and make sure they never returned. So Green took their blade and readied themself to deliver the final blow on the weakened God, confident that they had won and there would be no more disorder after this was done._

_But the War God had one last trick up their sleeve. As Green took the back of their collar in hand and raised their sword, the God grabbed them without warning and summoned one last portal with which to take the two of them far away from their dimension and down to the worlds below. When they came to, they were both disoriented and afraid, no longer in their Godly forms and instead in human-like bodies, minds shaken and out of place. The War God took off as soon as their legs were steady enough, leaving Green weak and alone, defenseless and close to death. As they collapsed into the snow, they laughed at the irony of their siblings having to snip the strings of their death and guide them to the afterlife for them._

_They awoke in a village, surrounded by people. They had been saved and nursed back to health by a group of villagers, who told the Admin that they were welcome to stay as long as was needed. This gave Green the time to examine their new body. They were short and slightly tan, white blonde hair scraping the tips of slightly pointed pink ears, wearing an outfit of baggy green, white and black material. A striped hat cast shadow over electric blue eyes. Jewelry hung from their neck and wrists and fingers. Most impressive of all, from their back sprouted the most magnificent pair of steel grey wings that melted into solid black and snowy white, speckles of chestnut across the primaries and fading into the soft back feathers. The Admin admired themself. Maybe something good had come from this after all._

_One of the villagers came in to give them towels, a woman with dark eyes and hair and a grin that made their chest feel tight. She caught them studying their own reflection with far too much intensity. "I don't blame you for staring," she said teasingly, swatting the Admin's arm with the fluffy material. "You're a very good looking man. I've never seen wings this beautiful and well taken care of. You remind me of an angel."_

_Green tilted their head, and something flashed in the black of their pupils that made them want to tear their own eyes from their human skull. "That's me," they mumbled in a human tongue that sounded foreign even to themself. "An angel."_

_Green left that night and slaughtered every animal in the farm. Cows and pigs and horses and chickens, which wasn't enough, wasn't red enough against their too human skin and too human clothes. They didn't stop until it wasn't an animal that their blade was piercing through. A woman, with dark eyes and dark hair and and a horrified gaping mouth that was full of white teeth and a scream._

_The village dubbed them "The Angel of Death." They quite liked that title._

_Later on, they took a new name. A name stolen from a brutal, tyrannical ruler who the Admin overthrew if only for the fun of it - but the people had cheered for them. "Our savior," they'd cried, the people in the streets of this broken country that they had only arrived in a week ago. "Angel, angel, what is your name?"_

_The Admin had paused at this. No one had asked their name in so long. They hadn't even thought about it. Would accepting a new name change things, would it mean they could never return to their previous life? "My name," they started, and fell silent as eager, human eyes burned into them. "My name is…"_

_Weeks later, they set off in search of the War God. After almost a year of looking, it became clear that they weren't going to find them. If they wanted to be seen, to be known, they would be, and this annoyed the Admin greatly. A God like them shouldn't be left unattended among Players, and yet. And yet. What would such a God be able to do without powers? They themself had almost none. There was no chance of the younger being able to do much of anything too harmful, at least not before they were discovered and eradicated._

_Then they heard whispers. Whispers in taverns and dark alleyways and parks. A name. A phrase. "The Blood God," they said, fear in their tone. "Blood for the Blood God."_

_The Admin knew exactly who this would be._

"I'm so sorry," Phil mumbles, and he's shaking, hard, mind whirring. Techno is warm against him, the weight reassuring. "Techno, I - I swear to you, right now, that I will not let _any_ stupid God hurt you. I swear it. I swear it on my life."

"Don't," Techno whispers. "Don't be stupid. Phil, they've - they've already made me do things, hurt others, and I don't know how to stop. Earlier, when Wilbur yelled at me and was calling me selfish and stuff, I - I wanted to hurt him, Phil. And the God was in my head. I could hear them. Phil, I don't think… people… are safe around me. I don't think _I'm_ safe at all."

Philza has lived thousands of years. Philza created pieces of the universe in his own hands. Philza has loved, and Philza has watched loved ones die. Philza has lost more than anyone could ever understand.

He makes a promise to himself, then and there.

_I will keep Wilbur safe. I will keep Tommy safe. I will keep Techno safe. I will not let my family down ever, ever again._

"You're safe with me," the Admin says with such conviction that the young boy looks up at him with surprise sparking in his eyes. The hot, overwhelming urge to protect, protect, protect swims up in his chest and he swallows it back and holds Techno closer. "I won't let anything happen to anyone I love again."

**Author's Note:**

> @bupine on tumblr and instagram, pog B)


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